


Taking Control

by Queen_Pistachio



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Pistachio/pseuds/Queen_Pistachio
Summary: Jennifer Sallow (better known as "Jenny Swallows" by the people who hate her) is sent away from Ontario to BC after her parents die in a house fire. There she lives in a student dorm under the careful watch of her "aunt" Patricia, an ugly, annoying old witch of a lady. It's in her new home where she stops believing in things like fairytales and monsters. There's no heaven or hell, there's no Santa Claus, and there are no Happily Ever Afters. That is until three years later when she and her new friend Theo meet a small, adorable little demon who insists that Jenny is special. And he needs their help.
Comments: 2





	1. Chapter One

The school hallways feel chilly as I walk down to the exit. Maybe it's due to the cold winter weather outside; maybe it's because I'm so skinny. Who knows. Nobody else in the school seems to mind it, anyway. Not with their fancy scarves and hats that their families sent their way last fall. I pull my hat over my ears again, wishing for it to stop slipping off every two seconds. Maybe I should start saving up for a new one. One that fits better. One that's not too small.

I exit the school through the double doors nearest my locker and begin walking in the general direction of the student dorms. The dull, grey buildings stand tall in the distance, just outside the school grounds, and I sigh heavily at what awaits me there. My hands begin to sting with cold through my thin, fingerless gloves, so I shove them into my equally thin sweater pockets. It doesn't do much, but not much is better than nothing. My backpack is heavy on my back, despite it being almost empty, and my glasses fog up every time I exhale even slightly. I don't know why Patricia even makes me wear them, I can see perfectly fine without.

As I go to cross the soccer field in the yard I can see a group of high school boys harassing another boy, one younger than me. Probably not younger than me by much, though. Maybe two or three years. Averting my attention towards the group, I realize that I've seen the boy before. He lives in my dorm, on the first floor, I think. Jet black hair and dark brown eyes. He's really small, but in like a cute way. Liked a puppy that's been kicked. Not that I think he's cute, that is, I'm just making an observation. I turn to continue walking when I see the older boys snatch the younger boy's book out of his arms and open it. The boy frantically reaches for the object, but unfortunately, the high schoolers are much taller and much stronger than he'll probably ever be. Sighing, I pull my hands out of my pockets and turn my feet towards them. Maybe an adrenaline rush will warm me up.

As I get closer I can hear them talking. Not that it's hard, with them hooting and hollering their heads off like someone just told the funniest joke in the universe.

“I love her eyes, and her hair, and her presence in general,” one of the boys, a tall, stocky, varsity football team looking kid with a swoopy haircut reads from the book in a mocking tone. His nose and cheeks are tinted pink from the cold, but he clearly doesn't mind it as he torments the child in front of him. The book must be a diary, then, I think to myself. Maybe the kicked puppy has a crush?

Another boy, a little shorter than the other two, but with much darker skin and a much, much louder voice, snatches the diary and continues reading.

“I don't know her name but I wish I could see her smile, just once. Maybe it looks nice, too,” he reads, his voice getting more comprehensible, and somehow even louder, as I get closer. The third boy, a pale-as-a-ghost ginger boy with muscles half the size of my head, looks in my direction when I'm only a few meters away from them.

“Look,” he says, “there she is! The person of interest, right on time!” He and his friends began to laugh. I tilt my head in confusion, a habit of mine I picked up from god knows where. The puppy boy is on his knees now, looking even more mortified than before. Was the diary about me? How would they even know that, when they don't even know my name? Whatever it is, I'm annoyed by it already.  
“What's happening here, boys?” I say, crossing my arms. The gesture isn't needed, but it's an excuse to put my freezing hands into my armpits. Maybe that'll warm them up enough to punch something. Or someone. It also doesn't help that I asked the question in such a monotone voice, lacking all enthusiasm to be at all helpful. The boys just looked at me, then each other, and start laughing again.

“Haha, hilarious,” I say, rolling my eyes. I walk towards the boy on the ground and offer my hand, pushing past the three high schoolers. He hesitates, but grabs it and stands up. His face is bright red as he does so, and I highly doubt it's entirely because of the cold. With the boy now on his feet, I face the three high schoolers. Specifically, the ginger, who still holds the book. I make to reach for it but he quickly pulls it away from me.

“Really?” I say, retracting my hand. Two seconds in and I'm already done with this whole interaction. I pull my hat over my ears once again and take a breath.

“Give it,” I say in the most assertive tone I can muster with how little I actually care, putting my hand out palm-up like a mother to her toddler. Obviously, this doesn't work. The ginger just laughs again and hands the book to his dark-skinned accomplice and steps forward with his hands on his hips dramatically.

“Or what?” he says as if I even knew myself. Now I'm really starting to get annoyed.

“I don't have time for this, jackass. If I'm not home by 4:00 my dorm's ambassador will be miffed beyond belief.” I tell him. He doesn't care, and instead of handing the book over he grabs my outstretched hand and pulls me to him. 

“You're feisty, aren't you? Someone should put you in your place, huh princess?” he says into my ear, trying to be some resemblance of sexy. It's not. He brushes some of my hair behind my ear like this is some cliche rom-com, and his grip on my arm becomes tighter.

“Let. Me. Go.” I say in a growl. And I mean a real growl. I don't know where that came from. Luckily for me, the growl actually works and the ginger asshole in front of me pulls his head back far enough to look me in the eyes with some sort of concern. His breath fogs up my glasses, which is very annoying. I glare daggers into his face as I slowly reach into the back pocket of my tattered jeans with my free hand, hoping and praying the other's don't see me.

The boy with the book does see me, though, and he makes a gasp as he sees what I pull out.

“What's that about, freak?” the swoopy haircut kid says, grabbing onto the boy's arm. “Where are you looking, huh?”

“Ah!” the boy exclaims, looking down at the ground and covering the back of his head with his free hand.

“He asked you a question!” the loud, dark-skinned boy said.

“Nothin-, it's nothing,” the boy said, wavering his gaze from the ground to me. I look from him to the ginger, who's distracted now but not letting go of me anytime soon. It doesn't matter though because in my left hand rests the pocket knife I received for my 10th birthday, opened and ready.

Taking advantage of the ginger's distraction, I hold the knife and swing my arm around, grazing his cheek with the blade. He let of me immediately, holding his bleeding face with his hands. I lift my foot and kick him between the legs. He steps back, letting go of his face and instead goes to grab his “special place”. He falls to the ground in pain, and I look to the other boys, who stare at their injured friend with gaping mouths. They stare back and forth between the ginger's face and my blade, and I hold out my hand again.

“Book. Now.” I say, stepping forward. The boys drop the book and run the opposite direction faster than I'd have time to say “please”. I fold my knife back up and place it in my pocket again, deciding to worry about cleaning it off later. The ginger is still on the floor, groaning as I walk over to where the object of desire dropped. It's open and facing up as I reach down to grab it, and I can't help but admire the artwork inside. I can now see how the high schoolers knew it was about me, considering there was a rather uncanny drawing of me in the middle of a paragraph. Without reading any words, I close the book and wipe some dirt off of it. Holding the book in my hands, I contemplate re-opening it up and reading it, wondering what else was said about me. I decide against it, instead turning to the terrified boy behind me and holding it out to him, offering him a small smile. That's what the book said he wanted, right? Me to smile? He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and grabbed the book, holding it to his chest immediately.

“I, uh. Thank you,” he says, quickly finding an interest in his shoes.

“Yeah, no problem,” I reply, blowing hot breath into my hands, which are still cold. I look at the watch on my wrist and see that it's 3:42 PM.

“Shit!” I say out loud. The boy jumps as I shout. “I gotta go.” I turn to leave when he grabs my arm.

“Wait,” he says, “we live in, in the same dorms, right?” I stare at him confused. He let's go of my arm and begins speaking way quicker than necessary.

“Not that I, I stalk you or, or anything, of course!” he says in response to my stare, waving his free hand defensively, “I've just seen you around in the, in the common rooms and stuff. I promise I'm not some kind of creep or anything.” He looks back down to his shoes and hugs his journal tightly, clearly trying to will away his blush.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply, grabbing onto my backpack strap with one hand and once again fixing my hat with the other.

“Do you think we could, uh, we could walk together? I don't wanna go alone.”

“I mean, sure, but if I'm late Patricia will kick my ass,” I say as I start walking towards the dorms once again, making sure to step on the ginger boy on the ground, rather than around him. The boy with the book jogged to catch up to me, smiling softly and once again staring at the ground.

“What's your name?” I ask after a few seconds.

“Oh, uh. I'm Theodore,” he says, stopping and holding out his hand for a handshake. “But I guess you could just call me Theo.”

I looked down at his outstretched hand, then back up to his face. He was biting his lip pretty hard, probably out of nervousness. I smile and grab his hand and shake it, looking at the way his cheeks turn bright red.

“I'm Jennifer,” I say, “but I guess you could call me Jenny.”


	2. Chapter Two

Theo and I entered dorm building C at quarter past four, having gotten lost in conversation on the way over. Turns out we have a lot in common interests wise, and he's not as much of a loser like I'd originally thought. As soon as we entered the main lobby of the building an ugly, shrill voice filled my ears.  
  
“Jennifer Sallow! Where have you been?” Patricia yelled from across the room, stomping over to us.  
  
“Dammit,” I whisper to myself, thanking every god I don't believe in that the room is empty except for us. I turn around and face the witch, noticing that her most recent Botox session was a success.   
  
“Hello, Patricia,” I say in a sickly sweet voice. It felt gross.  
  
“Don't you 'hello Patricia' me, young lady. Do you have any idea what time it is?” she scowls. I look at my watch.  
  
“It is currently 4:17,” I reply, looking back at her.  
  
“And what time are you _supposed_ to be home?”  
  
“3:45,” I reply in the most monotone voice I've ever done.  
  
“So why are you late?” she asks, placing her fists on her hips and glaring at me.  
  
“If you must know,” I start, remembering that Theo was still there and watching. I grab his arm and pull him towards me. “I was with a friend.”  
  
Patricia looks at Theo, who's face has turned red again. He's staring at my hand around his arm and hugs his book tightly.  
  
“Since when do _you_ have friends?” Patricia asks, jabbing a bony finger into my forehead for some reason.  
  
“Since today.” I reply, “Is that a problem?”  
  
Patricia pauses to think. It's about fifteen seconds before she speaks again.  
  
“No, I guess it's not a problem. I'll let it slide this one time because you actually made a friend, which was one of the goals I set for you this year.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Now go to your room before I change my mind.”  
  
Accepting that invitation happily, I let go of Theo and begin walking to the stairs.  
“Aren't we going to take the elevator?” Theo asks as I open the stairwell door, pointing his thumb in the opposite direction. I glance over to where the elevators are on the other end of the room and shake my head.  
  
“I don't like elevators.”   
  
As we walk up the stairs I can't help but notice how nervous Theo seems. He keeps wiping his sweaty hands on his pants to dry them, before returning them to wrap tightly around his journal.   
  
“Are you ok?” I ask, stopping and turning to look at him.  
  
“Uh, what?” he replies.  
  
“Are you ok?” I repeat.   
  
“Oh, uh, yeah I'm, I'm fine.” He looks down to the stairs, which doesn't make his claim seem plausible at all, but I ignore it. When we reach the first floor entrance I wave goodbye to Theo, starting to make my way up to the third floor. Theo stops me by grabbing my arm. Again.  
  
“Uh, can you come with me?” he asks, his voice soft and desperate. I don't really want to, I'd rather go upstairs to my room and watch anime. I smile anyway, still a tinny bit happy that I don't have to part with my new friend just yet.  
  
“Sure,” I shrug, walking down the steps I climbed and grabbing the door handle. I open the door to the first floor, which is filled with niners and smells like body spray. Holding the door open I gesture for Theo to go first. He takes a shaky breath before walking into the first floor main hallway, and I follow him. It looks exactly like the third floor hallway, only the wall decor is a bit different. Theo leads me down the hallway and to the first floor common room, which looks exactly the same as the third floor common room. He keeps his head down the whole way and occasionally closes his eyes, as if he was bracing for something.  
  
We stop at the entrance of the first year's common room, and Theo looks inside. His eyes scan the room for something, but it's evident that he doesn't find what he's looking for when he sighs and looks to the floor and starts walking again.  
  
“Are you ok?” I ask again, not satisfied by the answer I was given in the stairwell. Theo nods but doesn't say anything.  
  
“So,” I start, wanting to end the silence, “why did you want me to come with you?”   
  
At that, Theo stops and faces me. He's about to say something when a scrawny looking third year bursts through a door behind him, close to the end of the hall, and steps out.  
  
“Theodore Montgomery!” he says in an announcer's voice. Theo visibly cringes as he hears the voice. The boy, who I recognize as someone who lives on my floor, comes up to us and wraps his arm around Theo's shoulders.  
  
“How's my psychopathic little niner doing today?” he says, using his other hand to ruffle Theo's hair. Theo looks like he's about to cry.  
“I'm not a psychopath, Liam,” Theo whispers, though it's obvious that the third year—Liam—doesn't care enough to listen to what Theo is saying.  
  
“Ya know,” he says, leaning down to whisper into Theo's ear. “My little brother's pet hamster went missing yesterday,” Theo closes his eyes and turns his head away from Liam. “Do you happen to know what happened to him, Theodore?”  
  
Theo shakes his head violently, stray hairs falling into his face. His eyes are glassy and glossed over. Is he crying?   
  
“How should I know?” he says. Liam unwraps his arm from Theo and instead grabs the collar of his shirt. Theo drops his precious book and shouts out in surprise as he's pushed back against the wall with Liam only inches from his face.  
  
“I know you took him you little shit,” Liam says. “Don't even try to lie.” Theo shakes his head again, looking as terrified as he did when the three boys took his book earlier. Liam lifts his arm back and balls his hand into a fist. Theo's eyes widen before closing shut.  
  
Tired of sitting here watching this unfold, I grab Liam's arm just as he's about to punch Theo. Liam looks over to me in shock, not having noticed me before apparently.  
  
“What the-” he says as I forcefully lower his arm for him.  
  
“Are you really going to punch a ninth grader for your brother's missing pet?” I say, annoyed. I really have to do everything myself today, don't I? I let go of his arm. And grab onto Theo's hand.  
  
“Are you really gonna try and stop me?” he smirks, raising his fist again. He swings it forward and I pull Theo out of the way just as Liam's fist makes contact with the wall, breaking a hole through it rather easily, but not without pain. I pick up Theo's book and smile as Liam is on his knees, cradling his probably mildly broken hand in his other one. He glares at me with the force of a thousand suns.  
  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Liam shouts at me. I can feel myself smirk and I kneel down to his level.  
  
“You tried to injure my friend, shouldn't you be asking yourself that question?” I pat him on the head, stand up, and turn back to Theo, handing him his book.  
  
“Which room was yours again?” I ask as if there isn't a twelfth grader crying on the floor behind me. Theo looks from Liam to me and smiles, turning on his heel and leading me down to the very end of the hall and around a corner. We walk a few more steps until Theo stops in front of a boring blue door. There's a black and gold plaque on the door with the name “Theodore Montgomery” written on it. Theo pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door with practised ease, turning the knob and swinging the painted wood open.  
  
He stepped inside, and I followed behind him for the first time, but it definitely won't be the last.


End file.
